Job 38

"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?
Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set,
or who laid its cornerstone—
while the morning stars sang together
and all the angels shouted for joy?
Who shut up the sea behind doors
when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it
and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther;
here is where your proud waves halt'?
Have you ever given orders to the morning,
or shown the dawn its place,
that it might take the earth by the edges
and shake the wicked out of it?
Have you entered the storehouses of the snow
or seen the storehouses of the hail,
which I reserve for times of trouble,
for days of war and battle?
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed,
or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no one lives,
an uninhabited desert,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland
and make it sprout with grass?"

I love to read these beautiful words from Job 38 that paint such magical images of God's power.  In chapter 42, Job answers God by saying, "I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted."  Too often I face the day with my own expectations and limitations, without simply relying on God's plan.  Surely if He can make the sun rise, He can tackle my infinitesimal worries.

Sweet By And By

When I made my pumpkin pie this year, I saved back a little square of crust.  I sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar before sliding it into the oven.  Before long, my kitchen began smelling like Grandma's house.
Although I hold fast to the  promise that I will see her again, oh, how I miss hearing her say, "Hello, dear" before she hugged me close.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

The Joy Of The Lord Is My Strength

I didn't feel strong.  Weary, wilted and old?  Absolutely.  But, strong?  Not even a little bit.  I'd ended up cleaning two houses today, with a break in between for a sandwich and sitcom with Jason.  After nearly eight hours of dusting, scrubbing bathrooms, and mopping, I finally dragged myself home.
I was immediately greeted by my guys who required attention (food).  I chose to ignore the dishes in the sink and the full hamper of laundry that were also patiently awaiting my arrival (I guess the cleaning lady forgot to come while I was gone, ha).  It was only after I'd propped my feet up with a sigh that I remembered the mail.  Tucked between yet another letter from Medicare and a postcard offering car insurance was an envelope.  Inside I found a card that read, "Don't be discouraged!  Be firm!  Be strong!  Be a rock!"  Someone (anonymous) had written a note that began, "I know there must be days when it's more difficult for you to be strong..."  I started crying even before I noticed the Walmart gift card.
I often find myself talking about God's timing.  Over and over and over again, He makes His presence known to me.  It seems that before I even express a need, it is not only met, but filled to overflowing.  I can only pray that whoever blessed our family so abundantly will read this.  My words are inadequate to express my gratitude.
"You are my strength, I watch for you;
 you, God, are my fortress,
 my God on whom I can rely." (Psalm 59:9-10)

Unconditional

My parents came for a visit over the weekend.  They arrived with the usual items in their luggage: pictures from their latest trip (beautiful Venice this time), newspaper articles of interest, a loaf of homemade bread, and other assorted little treasures.
Ah, but they were also accompanied by those things less tangible.  They arrived bearing a warm embrace and the transparent joy of being here.  They brought a fresh energy, and breathed new life into our little home.  My shoulders immediately felt lighter.
The only time my gas tank is full is after a visit from my parents.  My dad somehow finds a way to quietly slip away to fill it to the brim.  My mom works some kind of magic on my kitchen sink with Comet cleaner and an ordinary sponge.  Before I can realize our toilet paper is running low, Dad walks into the house with an 18 pack of double rolls.  We are likely set for toilet paper until Christmas.
Besides lifting some of the physical load, my parents buoy my spirits.  They offer encouragement and advice on both mundane and overwhelming issues.  They play tirelessly with Eli and make Jason laugh.  Since Mom and I are both insomniacs, we share late night chats.  She often thinks of something she forgot to tell me, and knocks on our bedroom door.  Last night after she told me "one last thing" and left our room, Jason whispered, "She'll be back."

Today Mom told me that Glen Campbell was diagnosed with Alzheimer's earlier this year.  He was one of our favorites when I was growing up.  Mom and I would listen to him in the kitchen while we ate tomato soup.  She told me this afternoon that she especially enjoys his song titled "Unconditional Love".  I feel this song aptly describes my mom and dad.  I'm grateful every day that God blessed me with such loving parents.

Grateful

Grateful

(this is a link to a little video I created)

The Secret Of Being Content

Our Bible class this morning focused on being worn out emotionally.  You might say I could personally relate to this feeling.  Whenever life becomes too difficult, I send my sister an email that simply says, "I am weary".  She rarely needs clarification or asks me to elaborate, and yet knows exactly how to encourage me.
Lately I've been struggling with being content in every aspect of my life.  It seems as though everyone around me is moving on in some way.  They are changing jobs, buying new homes, or relocating to new cities.  I often feel as though the days stretch out ahead of me without any hope of variation or progress.  I'm reminded of lyrics from a song by The Weepies: "the whole world is moving, and I'm standing still".
I'm not particularly proud of these musings.  In fact, they often take me by surprise.  I honestly would not welcome the chaos and stress that inevitably surround such upheavals.  I constantly tell people that I crave calmness, so am puzzled by these longings for change.
I feel as though God is providing gentle reminders that we are indeed making forward progress.  Last weekend, I watched in awe as Jason and his brother walked their sister down the aisle at her wedding.  There was a time when Jason had to be moved from bed to wheelchair on a board.  Now he walked with a proud look of concentration on his face.
When Jason first came home from the hospital, he was unable to visit his mother's home because of the stairs that led up to her door.  These were actually the first stairs he eventually attempted.  It took three people (one of them being a rather terrified wife) and a cane to make that initial climb.  This week when we stopped by to deliver a piece of Jason's birthday cake to his mom, he fairly bounded up those steps in his eagerness to see her.
Just yesterday I came across a copy of an email that my sister sent out to friends and family while Jason was in the ICU.  It was written shortly after he started waking from his coma.  It said, "He looked around and looked at Donna, and seemed to have no recognition of her at all.  She was devastated."  Now every single time I enter the room, Jason's eyes light up and he smiles as though he's been waiting all day to see my face.

"Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning."  (Lamentations 3:21-23)

Resilient

I constantly wonder what unseen lasting effects our struggles will have on Eli. Even in the days before he was born, life was chaos around him. During the week before Eli's arrival into this world, Jason had surgery for a serious bacterial infection. On the night before my planned induction, I found myself at home trying to pack gauze into Jason's incisions. This was my first attempt at this particular task, but unfortunately was not to be my last. I was so afraid that I was doing it incorrectly, and that he would not heal properly. I remember my parents knocking on our door after arriving from South Dakota at the exact moment of my slight meltdown.
Jason was able to be present for Eli's birth, but the next day was admitted to the hospital for another surgery after more infection was discovered. My time in the hospital was split between holding Eli in my room while quietly crying and visiting Jason's room on a different floor to throw myself onto his bed while sobbing (it's possible that hormones played a small part in my dramatic response). Even so, the situation seemed terribly unfair. Jason was missing those first precious moments with his son. We were heartbroken when Jason had to remain in the hospital, and was unable to bring Eli home for the first time. When he was finally able to come home, he still needed to spend his time recovering rather than bonding with Eli. My mom stayed to help me with Eli while Jason's mom took over Jason's care. Two years later, Jason was back in the hospital with a life-threatening condition (Fournier gangrene and sepsis). The ICU was not a place for a toddler, so Eli spent most of his time with my sister and her family. Although Eli couldn't fully understand, he knew his dad was very sick, and that all was not right in his little world. I remember one day when my sister brought Eli to me at the hospital. She said simply, "He really needs some time with you." I had been so focused on willing Jason to survive that I hadn't been able to realize how desperately I needed this, too. That afternoon, Eli and I took a nap in the waiting room together. The warm weight of him on my chest soothed me as nothing else could. Jason spent Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's in the hospital. We did everything in our power to create normalcy for Eli. Jason's health remained tenuous over the next several years, with multiple hospital stays followed by recovery at home. In November of 2007, when Jason began experiencing lung, kidney and blood clotting issues that evaded a definite diagnosis, we had no idea the outcome would be so devastating. Eli was at school the day in February when I called an ambulance. Even though we didn't tell him at first how serious the situation was, he was old enough to sense it. At one point, I visited the hospital chapel and decided this would be the quiet place I would take Eli to tell him if Jason passed away. During those first critical days when he was given a dismal chance of survival, I sat beside his bed day and night, while Eli slept at my sister's house. After he suffered his brain injury on the ventilator, I stayed even though he spent the next weeks in a medically-induced coma. I counted the hours until the neurologist would come each morning and bring him out of sedation to see if he would show signs of response. During the subsequent weeks in the ICU, my parents stayed at our house off and on. I left the hospital early each morning so I could take Eli to school, while Dad replaced me in Jason's room. He sat with his coffee and crossword puzzle, so he wouldn't miss the report when the doctors made rounds. When school ended for the summer, Jason was still in the hospital. My mom put her life on hold to stay with us. Dad made the drive back and forth to South Dakota so he could preach and tend to the farm. After Jason was transferred to a dismal long-term care facility an hour away, we drove back and forth to see him. We celebrated Eli's seventh birthday in Jason's room between his dialysis and physical therapy. Gradually, Eli began deciding to stay home with Grandma rather than make that trek back and forth. She did a wonderful job of distracting him and keeping him entertained. Finally, when Jason was transferred to North Kansas City Hospital, we were able to spend the night with him again. That first night in his room felt like a slumber party--we were overjoyed to be able to sleep under the same roof again. Jason proclaimed, "I'm so glad we decided to do this...stay in a hotel!" Even though he was confused about the details, he recognized it as a celebratory occasion. When Jason eventually came home from this third hospital, he needed continual care, so I often had little energy left for a boy who had endured so much. Jason was still in a wheelchair, needed supplemental tube feedings, and was going for dialysis treatments. I tried to keep everything in balance, but this proved impossible. I kept telling myself that children are resilient. Meanwhile, Eli was trying to adjust to the changes in his dad along with the lack of enough attention from his mom. Jason was physically unable to be the kind of dad that Eli remembered. Jason's personality was also drastically altered those first years after his brain injury. While he has made great strides, he isn't the same dad as before. We are still working on rebuilding the close relationship between father and son. I am actively trying to find ways to include Jason again in homework, discipline and activities now that he is more able to participate. One morning last week when I woke Eli for school, he told me he didn't feel well. I knew his allergies had been bothering him, but also felt he was well enough to go to school. After I'd exhausted all my reasons that he needed to go, I became frustrated and left the room. Pretty soon, Jason got out of bed after hearing our discussion. I heard him gently say, "Son, you need to go to school." The next thing I knew, Eli was dressed and putting on his shoes. Jason sat back down on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. It had been so long since I'd seen him looking as proud. What a difference those few words made for both of them.

So far so...good?

I'm rather proud to report that, twelve days into the school year, I have yet to drive Eli to school while wearing my pajamas.  This is not to say that I would win a beauty contest (or, sadly, be a runner-up for Miss Congeniality...but that's a whole other topic).  I continue to hold my (funky morning) breath all the way, wondering if this will be the morning I have a flat tire and must face the world with Tina Turner hair and pillow creases on my cheeks.
I've been fairly successful so far in being more organized.  I remembered to send lunch money and to join the PTA.  I returned all the various paperwork in a timely fashion.  I even salvaged Box Tops from items in our pantry.  I remembered (ok, just this morning) that Eli's teacher said he could take a water bottle for these hot days.  Eli was sweet enough to inform me that he's been the only student without one.  Sigh.
Eli has made the transition surprisingly well (honestly, I'm shocked).  He gets up in the morning without grumbling and cheerfully completes his homework in the evening (except for a minor incident with cursive, which is the bane of his existence).  We've even breezed through two whole Mondays without a call from the school nurse stating that Eli was complaining of a stomach ache, sore throat, or (insert obscure ailment here).
Ah, but I'm not naive enough to believe these carefree days will last.  I'm fairly certain we shall return to our slacker ways.  Soon I'll be tossing Eli a waffle as we race out the door...him without his backpack and me sporting leopard-print pajama pants.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

There were moments while sitting beside Jason's bed in the hospital that I honestly couldn't imagine his body ever being fully healed.  It seemed as though each new day brought yet another complication.  I remember one afternoon when I silently took inventory of the seemingly insurmountable issues he was facing:
--a ventilator was still breathing completely for him since his lungs were full of blood and fluid
--his kidneys had failed...and dialysis was proving difficult due to a clotting disorder
--he was in a coma after suffering a brain injury when his ventilator tube popped
--there were blood clots throughout both of his legs
--he was experiencing seizures following his brain injury
--he was fighting fevers and infections
Although I knew in my heart that God could heal Jason, I must admit there were times when my overwhelmed mind could not fully grasp this.  The future often seemed terrifying and uncertain.  I wondered if Jason would wake up...if he'd remember me...if he'd need to endure dialysis for the rest of his life...if he'd ever walk again.
Even as these thoughts were running through my mind, God was already working in Jason.  Slowly, Jason started to wake up.  One day after a nurse asked Jason if he knew his wife, my heart soared when his eyes immediately flew to me.  His seizures gradually ceased.  Each infection responded to treatment.  After five months, his kidneys miraculously healed, though doctors had warned us this was a nearly impossible outcome.  When I first brought Jason home, he wasn't able to walk.  He'd walked the parallel bars a few times at the hospital, but was still in a wheelchair.  He gradually worked up to a walker, which was finally retired to the garage. Did he walk again?  Oh, yes...in fact, he dances!  (sorry this video is sideways and rather dark...I never claimed to be clever, ha!)

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths in the earth.  Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  How precious to me are your thoughts, God!  How vast is the sum of them!  Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand-when I awake I am still with you." (Psalm 139:13-18)

One Safe Place

One day last week, Jason and I found ourselves driving close to the neighborhood where we used to live.  I made a comment about being so much happier in our new place.  When I asked Jason if he felt the same way, he replied, "My home is wherever you are."  After all that Jason has endured in his life, I hope to be his safe place.  I wasn't able to protect him from so many of the struggles he faced.  Often I was merely a helpless spectator.  I feel blessed that God has entrusted me with Jason's care, and pray that he will always feel content and secure.

"Where thou art, that is home." ~Emily Dickinson

Stop! In The Name Of Love

Jason almost slapped me once.  We'd been having brake problems on our car, so he and Eli spent the day at a repair shop.  When they  picked me up after work, we headed home for the evening.  As we drove along Frederick Avenue, Jason tried to slow down at the bottom of a hill.  I noticed the puzzled look on his face before he quietly informed me that we had no brakes.  When he tried the emergency brake, he discovered the mechanics had failed to reattach the cable.  My reaction was nothing short of a full-blown meltdown.  I knew a four year old boy was in the seat behind us, and several cars and a red light were in front of us.  Somehow at the last minute, there was a break in traffic and Jason turned left onto Noyes Boulevard.  We barely registered the honks from angry motorists who were starting into the intersection.  While I was screaming, Jason was frantically trying to devise a plan.  We were soon approaching another traffic light, more cars, and an unsuspecting man on a bicycle.  As I braced for what seemed an unavoidable impact of some kind, Jason caught a glimpse of an alley on his left.  He turned just before an oncoming car reached us.  After travelling over several bumps and the whole length of the alley, we finally coasted to a stop.  Even though the danger had passed, I was unable to calm down.  Jason later told me he was afraid he was going to have to slap me like he'd seen in movies.  As I reflect on the past eleven years of our marriage, I am thankful God provided me with such a fierce protector.  Jason consistently tried to shield me from life's obstacles.  He worked tirelessly to overcome any struggles we faced.  May God continue to bless our years together.
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever." ~Psalm 107:1

My Love

Yesterday I said, "Jason, this is August 3rd...what's tomorrow?"  He grinned and replied, "August 4th?"  Happy Anniversary, dear husband.  Maybe you'll remember this song. :o)                



                                                       

Hear Me Roar

Each night before he goes to sleep, Jason asks me the same question:  "What do we have to do tomorrow?"  At times he seems puzzled by the disparity of our individual to-do lists.  During the first year after he came home from the hospital, I would occasionally discover him fully dressed, sitting on the couch in the middle of  the night. When I asked what he was doing, he either said getting ready for work or for school.
Sometimes if I'm facing a particularly daunting day, I don't go into great detail.  I've found this will simply cause me to lie awake half the night, wondering if I'll be able to accomplish everything.  I so look forward to the rare nights when I can tell him we have no responsibilities and can spend the next day together.
This time of year never fails to cause a bit of panic.  Old Navy commercials start advertising back-to-school clothing, rulers and notebooks begin appearing inside the entrance of the grocery store, and Eli slowly loses the bounce in his step.  My head begins to whirl with thoughts of school supplies, parent/teacher conferences, and morning races to the school bus.  A little knot of dread begins forming as I dwell on thoughts of 5th grade math homework.
I realize there are many true single parents who often feel overwhelmed by daily obligations.  I believe I am lacking the organized multi-tasker gene.  I live in awe of women who juggle far more than I can even fathom.  I am praying for a smooth transition into the school year.  Hopefully it will be the year this slacker mom really shines.  May Eli start each day well-rested, with a full tummy and a cheerful heart.

Selah

I learned about this book today, and put it on hold at the library.  I've been a fan of Selah for some time now, and remember hearing this story about one of their lead singers.  I've watched several videos about this amazing family.  Angie also has a blog (http://angiesmithonline.com) that I plan to read as I find time.  I believe their unwavering faith in the face of such heartache will reach so many people.

"I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name." (Isaiah 45:3)

Every Part of Me

I can clearly remember one early morning when Jason's neurologist strolled into the ICU.  My mom and I had been anxiously awaiting his arrival.  Although he came every morning to try and rouse Jason from his coma, this morning was different.  He came bearing life-changing CAT scan results of Jason's brain.  An earlier EEG test done following his brain injury had shown slow activity.  Those results had been devastating.  After several more days without a response from Jason, they performed a CAT scan to determine the extent of the injury.
I was unable to read the neurologist's mood when he entered the room.  He immediately went to the window to check the weather.  He casually said, "Well, that's not good"...and my heart sank.  I soon realized he was commenting on what he'd seen outside.  After I started breathing again, he smiled and said he had something to show me.  He walked me to a computer at the nurses' station to show me the pictures of Jason's brain.  He explained to me that they showed no large areas of permanent damage.  He seemed extremely surprised and relieved.  I felt as though I'd been given an enormous gift.
Even though I couldn't read the test results, I now see which parts of Jason's brain were not altered.  He is still kind, gentle and considerate.  In the winter, whenever a snowstorm is predicted, he still calls his mom to make sure she has everything she needs.
I am thankful every day that Jason's sense of humor remains intact.  Whenever I run into people who knew him in the past, they never fail to mention his humor.  He has an amazingly quick and genius wit.  Each night when I remind him to put on his CPAP mask, I say it in silly ways so I don't seem like such a nag.  Last night, I said, "Goodnight, PAPPY!"  He smirked and replied, "Goodnight, Mammy"--then proceeded to roll over and pretend to sleep.
Even though Jason's memory was greatly impacted, he still has millions of facts stored away.  I have always been in awe of the extent of his knowledge.  This has not changed.  He consistently blows my mind whenever his remote lingers on game shows.  I believe he knows the name of every person who's ever been a professional wrestler.  Even though he never met my dad's mother, he never forgets her name:  Ida Lodema Beanblossom Busch!
Even though so much has changed, I do remember to count my blessings.  Whenever I falter, and begin to focus on what was lost, I name those blessings one by one.  Oh, see what God has done.

Serenity Now

I crave calmness.  I crave quiet days without chaos.  I crave long books and soothing music.  I've come to realize these longings are the direct result of too many tumultuous days.  I did not emerge from the past several years unscathed.  I am damaged, and often wonder if I will ever truly recover.
Of course, life is unavoidably loud and messy.  No one can escape drama entirely.  In order to remain fully engaged in the world around me, I often must find ways to overcome my discomfort.   I have also learned my limitations and shortcomings.  I pray that time will provide me with more adept coping skills.  However, for now I shall continue to wear my headphones while shopping at Walmart, and simply pretend I'm strolling through a meadow instead.

I promise this is the last post about my trip!

When one of my close friends first heard that I'd decided to go to Houston, she wrote me a message.  She said, "I am praying that you go on the trip with great joy and peace.  Remember, even though I know your decisions bounce you back and forth from guilt to guilt, I was thinking how important it is for parents to have their kids come home.  Your responsibilities here will still be waiting when you get back.  Life is a series of moments...that was in a poem I read this week...and the moments you have to focus on your parents and brothers are so few and far between."
Even though it was extremely difficult to leave my guys, they somehow managed to survive without me. Ha.  Eli was not at all amused when I first told him of my plans, and didn't understand why I would go without him.  Somewhere along the way, he must have come to terms with the idea.  When I tried changing my mind at the last minute, he said, "Mom, you told me you needed this...and you do!"  I did receive several tearful phone calls the first couple days.  One time he informed me that he'd "cried for an hour and 31 minutes until he literally ran out of tears".
Jason was very supportive of my plans.  He assured me they would be fine, and that I should enjoy the time with my family.  When I told him my sister would be staying with them, he gestured around our bedroom and said, "As long as she realizes this is my domain, we'll get along just fine." Ha.  On Tuesday morning he was still in bed when my sister told him that she and Eli were leaving to pick me up at the airport, and would be back soon.  The next thing she knew, he was fully dressed and following them out the door.  I was thrilled to see my little family walking towards me at the airport.  I am truly blessed.

My Cup Runneth Over

My mind is fairly spinning thinking about the blessings I've received over the past several days.  I am so thankful for the unwavering encouragement from family and friends.  I am constantly in awe of the outpouring of love that I receive.
I keep wondering when my sister will tire of coming to my rescue.  I didn't even realize I was in need of being saved this time.  She must have sensed a quiet despair growing within me.  Not only did she orchestrate my escape, she stepped in and took my place while I was gone.  She gave Jason insulin shots like a pro and distracted a sad little boy.  I will forever be grateful she insisted I make this trip.
While I was in Houston, I was amazed to hear that the cost of my buddy pass airline ticket had been covered.  My sister told me that several friends from church had contributed towards this.  Even when she told people she had enough, they continued to hand her money.  She used part of the extra money to fill our car with gas.  Today she brought me a book I'd asked her to pick up at the library for me.  Whenever we talked on the phone this afternoon, she kept asking if I'd had a chance to read yet.  Finally, when my friend Jennie came over tonight, she discovered the rest of the collected money tucked away inside the book!  While I was gone, another friend treated Jason and Eli to a yummy lunch from McAlister's Deli.  Two other friends also took a delighted Eli on a miniature golf outing.
My sister asked friends to write me encouraging notes so I could read them on my return flight.  During those first anxious moments after takeoff, these beautiful words soothed me.  I've received more notes since I've gotten home.  I plan to read these during difficult times, and will treasure them.
When I got home on Tuesday, I found a marvelous surprise waiting for me.  Because our apartment is rather small, the computer is set up in our laundry/storage room.  My sister had spent hours transforming this area into a beautiful writing niche for me.  She organized the storage items and hid them behind curtains.  My friend Jennie purchased the curtains, a bulletin board, inspirational plaques, pretty storage bins, and antique writing supplies to decorate the top of my desk.  I now have my own special getaway right in the comfort of my home!
One of the notes I received said, "I pray God will refill your cup until it continually runneth over."  God consistently shows His love for me through the kindness and generosity of those around me.  I am truly grateful.

"And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony."  (Colossians 3:14)

Above The Clouds

I am not a fan of flying.  I hadn't flown in almost ten years, so was dreading my flight.  I'm fairly certain the airport personnel I encountered in Kansas City sensed I was not exactly a seasoned flier.  At the security gate, I informed my sister that I could not get on the plane after all.  Somehow she finally persuaded me to move onward.  My wobbly legs carried me to the door where I managed to show a woman my driver's license.  I proudly remembered to take off my shoes and place them in a bin on the conveyor belt.  I set one of my carry-on bags there as well.  I then proceeded to wheel my other bag through the metal detector.  The security officer patiently instructed me to put it with my other things.  I was startled when I beeped while strolling through the metal detector.  He noticed my silver bracelet, and kindly asked me to remove it.  When I beeped on my second time through, I wondered aloud if my belt might be the problem.  I must give the man credit for how calmly he replied, "Does it have metal on it?  It is a METAL detector."  Duh.
When Eli and I had been discussing flying, he seemed alarmed to discover that I would be flying above the clouds.  Even though I had a window seat on both flights, it wasn't until my return trip that I could relax enough to enjoy the view.  I even snapped several pictures of the clouds so Eli could see how awesome they were.  My mom actually made the flight home with me, and mentioned a sermon my dad had once preached that was inspired by the many flights he's taken.  He'd said that no matter how dark and dreary things may seem on the ground below, at 30,000 feet the sun is always shining.  A few minutes later, it was amazing to read a note from a friend that included the very same sentiment.  She shared about her experience of flying through a rainbow during a storm.  She told me, "You may not get to fly through a rainbow, but maybe you can enjoy the promises of being above the clouds and seeing the beauty from the topside.  I always like to remember that when we look up on a cloudy sky from below, there is sunshine just on the other side."  Indeed there is.

A Battle Of Wills

My sister fights dirty.  She'd been telling me for weeks that I needed a little break.  She kept finding ways to slip the idea into our routine conversations.  One day she casually mentioned that Houston would be a perfect destination.  I could finally see my parents' new house and visit my brothers and their families.  Although the thought was extremely appealing, in my heart, I just couldn't fathom such an idea.  Whenever I expressed my misgivings, she asked me to list my reservations.  I know she showed great restraint and tried not to push me.  Finally, two weeks ago, I found an email from her that was titled:  "Read this--sound familiar??"  Apparently, my sister had been seeking reinforcement online.  This is a portion of the article she shared with me:  "...when trying to schedule vacation time, caregivers can often feel guilty for trying to carry on and have a normal life.  Additionally, fond memories of past vacations, when the loved one was still healthy, create a downward spiral with feelings of loss and sadness.  When caring for another, a caregiver often neglects their own well-being, oftentimes not even seeing themselves as a caregiver, but simply as a loving family member, doing what needs to be done.  Realize that your happiness is what your loved one wants most from you, and that you do them honor by living a balanced and fulfilled life."  No fair, sister!  She knew I could fully relate to these thoughts since they were some of my best excuses I'd been feeding her.
Jason used to love going to Houston.  We went nearly every summer after Eli was born.  Our last trip there was in 2007, just a few months before he started getting sick.  I wondered how I could possibly make that trip without him.
As I prayed and wrestled with my conflicting emotions, I truly did not feel I was strong enough to be away from Jason and Eli.  My sister gently pressed me to at least pick a weekend that might work.  I grudgingly agreed with her that the weekend of June 18th would be the best option for everyone involved.  At the beginning of last week, I went ahead with my normal responsibilities and scheduled housecleaning jobs for the week.  Although I honestly hadn't made a final decision, without thinking it through, I scheduled a job for Friday.  I don't remember mentioning this to my sister, but found a message waiting from her the next morning.    She expressed how sad she'd been when she heard I'd made a commitment for Friday, since that told her I'd decided not to go.  Her message was so touching and helped me realize how much my family could benefit from my respite.  Nothing like pulling out the big guns, sister!  On Tuesday night, I posted John Denver's "Leaving On A Jet Plane" to Facebook, with the comment, "Ok, sister...you win!"

Brown Eyed Girl



My days on the farm as a young girl often lacked a certain amount of excitement. The winters in South Dakota seemed endless and brutal. We found very little enjoyment in being trapped in the house during a blizzard without electricity for days on end.
I did appreciate the arrival of spring and the baby animals that soon followed. I loved stalking the mother cats to discover where they'd stowed their kittens. One of my favorite activities was bottle-feeding my calf, Superstar (naturally, this story ends badly...and we won't dwell on the reason I shied away from beef for awhile).
Summertime on the farm found us toiling away for hours in the great outdoors. I did not thrill at the idea of pulling weeds, shucking corn, or shelling peas. I fairly loathed the task of plucking feathers from freshly butchered chickens.
Ah, but summers did hold the prospect of a certain surprise visitor. The warm breezes often blew in a young man named Harold. A friend of the family, he would often hitch hike from Tennessee and spend many weeks with us. We never knew when he might show up, and since he wasn't fond of farewells, he normally just quietly slipped away.
I'm sure Harold must have arrived with a suitcase in tow, but I only remember him bringing his guitar. Even at this young age, he was an amazing musician. We never tired of hearing him play for us. He helped feed pigs and pick green beans during the day, but spent the evenings singing John Denver and Bob Dylan. While I'm certain he liked my siblings and me equally, at the time I was convinced he was singing Brown Eyed Girl solely for my benefit. Sigh.
Harold slept in one of our outbuildings we called the office since it stored many of my dad's books. Although we had instructions to let him have this personal space, we continually encroached upon it. One day when the office was empty, I decided to strum the guitar and sing Amazing Grace. I knew Harold would be quite impressed with my musical talents, so coerced my brothers into sneaking him out there...so he might "accidentally" overhear me.
Harold also made cassettes of his music so we could listen to him when he was away. Surprisingly, they are still intact and not worn out from overuse. The last time Harold visited our farm was in the mid 90's. I was living at home after college during what I call my "flailing period", when I was unsure of my future paths. After another great visit, he once again left without saying goodbye.
Harold pursued his love of music, and now has a Master's in guitar performance.  He's a college professor, and teaches his mad guitar skills to others. He also performs with Jazz bands in the area.
I recently asked Harold if he could put something together for my mom. He has such a crazy schedule, but managed to squeeze in some studio time. He sent five songs to my computer this week, in time for me to mail a cd to Mom for her birthday. I could hardly contain my excitement waiting for it to arrive.  I was on the phone with her when she opened it, and ordered her to play it immediately.  I was overjoyed to listen with my mom to his rendition of City of New Orleans again after all these years.  In our minds, we were instantly transported back to those simpler summer days.
(I've included a video of Steve Goodman singing City of New Orleans, which he wrote.  Of course, in my [unbiased] opinion, Harold's version is far better)

Grandma's House

Some of my favorite childhood memories are of visits to our grandparents' farm close to Davenport, Nebraska.  We spent so many hours playing in the basement.  There were numerous treasures to be found.  We took turns on the blue hopper ball, gripping the handle as we bounced along the length of the floor.  We created beautiful potholders with a loop and loom set.  I especially loved dressing the paper dolls and holding my favorite stuffed chimpanzee.  We didn't even need to climb the stairs for a snack since the freezer was always stocked with pudding pops.
The big white barn was another special place.  It always smelled faintly of skunks, which must explain why I don't mind that scent so much.  Tucked in one little corner was a play kitchen.  Grandma kept the cupboards stocked with old dishes and cooking ingredients.  I can clearly remember the pitcher I used to mix up iced tea with the jar of instant tea.  It was a little girl's dream come true.
This past December, we took a short detour down a gravel road in Nebraska before starting back for Missouri.  We had driven past a few times in the twenty years since our grandparents moved away from the farm.  We'd forgotten that the barn was no longer standing.  The house looked smaller and was a different color.  Kids' toys littered the front yard.  However, my sister and I were relieved to see the same line of trees bordering the property.  On those trips to see Grandpa and Grandma, we always had our faces pressed to the car windows, hoping for our first glimpse of those trees...and the loving welcome that waited just on the other side.

I only expected to find some antique dishes...

I startled a poor woman at an estate sale today.  I recognized her immediately, and felt compelled to speak to her.  I said, "Excuse me, but can I just tell you how very much I appreciate you?"  She was the hospital chaplain who woke me at 3am on the ICU waiting room floor, called my sister to ask her to come, and prayed with me until she arrived.  It was clear she didn't remember me, even after I'd blurted out a brief summary of our connection.  She's certainly woken many other family members to relay news even more grim.  I was simply grateful for the opportunity to let her know she'd made a difference for me.

"The only gift is a portion of thyself." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Haute Cuisine

One night after Jason and I had been dating for several weeks, I invited him over to my apartment to watch a movie.  When it was over, I decided to whip up a quick dinner before sending him on his merry way.  I simply boiled some pasta and opened a jar of sauce, per my usual gourmet endeavors.  Jason raved about this meal for days, saying it was the best pasta he'd ever eaten.  To this day, I still don't know if he was merely trying to flatter me.  Perhaps it was the bliss of my company that made it seem especially delicious. ha  Jason mentioned this meal many times throughout our marriage.
This evening, after an unusually long and tiring day, I found myself lacking the gumption to make dinner.  I'd literally been on the go for twelve hours, so the couch was beckoning me.  I finally managed to boil radiatore and microwave some Prego.  Once again, this sweet man acted as though I'd slaved over a hot stove for hours creating a culinary masterpiece. 
When I mentioned that pasta of long ago to Jason, we discovered it's one of the memories he's lost.  I assured him it was truly an amazing meal. ha  I'm so thankful for a husband who treasures even my most mundane attempts to care for him.

Overcome

Once again, I find myself in awe of God's blessings and the intricate ways He continues to provide for our family.  I wish I could tell you that I sail through each day without a care in the world.  I wish I could say that I place every new obstacle at God's feet, and never look back.  I'm ashamed to say that you could often find me wide awake at 3am, unable to control the churnings within.
I often imagine God simply shaking His head each time I succumb to worry.  He must want to shake me, and remind me of the countless times He has delivered us from every peril we've faced.  He surely wonders what it will take to teach me that blind reliance on Him.
God's timing is impeccable.  When our circumstances change, or we are experiencing a particularly rough situation, the blessings are quick to follow.  I pray that I can adequately express my gratitude to those who help our family.  I pray they know how much their kindness and generosity impact our daily life.  I pray that I may obtain that peace and joy of relying on God to provide as He has promised.  I pray that I might live each day in a way that will bring glory to a God who demonstrates such compassion towards me.

"I waited patiently for the Lord;  He turned to me and heard my cry.  He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire;  He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.  He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.  Many, Lord my God, are the wonders You have done, the things You planned for us.  None can compare with You;  were I to speak and tell of Your deeds, they would be too many to declare." (Psalm 40:1-3,5)

Whither Thou Goest

Yesterday when I was away from home, I tried calling Eli to check in.  He was engrossed in a computer game, so didn't hear the phone.  I was distracted, so failed to hang up in time before my call went to voicemail.  Suddenly, Jason's voice filled my ear.  Each time this happens, I am unable to stop the tears that follow.  Eli uses Jason's cell phone now, but I haven't wanted to change the outgoing message.  Over the past three years, I've grown accustomed to many changes.  I often forget how different Jason's voice sounds since his brain injury.  It's been several months since Eli's quietly mentioned how much he misses Dad's old laugh.

When Jason first started showing an interest in me so many years ago, I felt we were too different.  He was extremely outgoing and confident, while I was somewhat quiet and shy.  He enjoyed going out with his friends, but I was content to stay in with a book.  I also felt our five year age difference was an issue.  Luckily for me, Jason was patient and persistent.  As I spent more time with him, I quickly realized we had much in common.  Each time we learned a new similarity, we would say, "We're the same!"  Throughout our marriage, we've repeated this mantra many times.  I'm so grateful that even though so much is altered, I still see glimpses every day of the man I married.

 "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.  Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me." (Ruth 1:16-17)

Valleys

My sister shared this song with me today.  She knows me very well...the subject line of her message was "You will love this!"  Sometimes I feel as though I've not only been walking through valleys, but actually inhabiting them.  I try to remain positive and gain strength from each small improvement I see in Jason, or from the contentment I witness in Eli.  I find my footing and start the steep climb out, but often a new obstacle knocks me right back down.  Even though God has promised to walk with me...even though I've clearly seen evidence of this, I still let myself become overwhelmed by the burdens of this life.  Sometimes my expectations battle against the realities of our situation.  Often I feel weary from the daily responsibilities I face.  However, I still believe in God's purpose and plan for me.  Over and over again He has lifted me from the depths, gently brushed the dirt off, and nudged me back onto the path.

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord you God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:1b-3a)"

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (Psalm 139: 7, 9-10, 23-24)

Gumdrops

It was just a simple little plastic tree. Each Christmas when we arrived at Grandma's house, I found it on the table waiting empty just for me. I quickly located the bag of green and red gumdrops, and went to work filling the branches. I don't remember why Grandma first gave me this particular task. Surely I wasn't the most efficient child she could have chosen. I spent more time sneaking gumdrops into my mouth than poking them onto the limbs. In fact, if you look closely at the first photo below, you may notice a slight bulge inside my cheek. This was just one of the ways that Grandma found to make me feel special and important.
My sister and I went to visit her last year on this date for her birthday. She'd been enduring pain for several months before this, but still greeted us with the same smile. When she and I had a few quiet minutes alone, she took my hand and said, "Oh, you are a sight for these sore eyes." For just a moment, I felt like that little girl once again, content to simply sit there and hold my grandma's hand.
We lost her in December, and have missed her every single day.

"The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another." (Genesis 31:49)

Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will. ~Mahatma Gandhi

I'm trying very hard to give Jason some of his independence back.  I've grown so accustomed to doing things for him, and even speaking for him.  I've been finding little things for him to do around the house...he loves to put groceries away, but usually passes on unloading the dishwasher.  When we go for monthly bloodwork or eye appointments, I let him check himself in with the receptionist.  A few months ago on a rare warm day, I let him pump gas for the first time in three years.  I held my breath the whole time because his coordination hasn't completely returned, and decided to choose other activities in the future.
When we went to Walmart this evening, I decided to send him back several aisles for the milk we'd forgotten.  I asked him to repeat to himself, "half gallon of 2% milk" as he drove the scooter back to get it.  He assured me that he could remember, and even seemed a little frustrated that I would doubt his ability.  It was extremely difficult to continue shopping rather than immediately search him out.  After enough minutes had passed that he should have returned, I started back to find him.  I'm pretty sure I nearly sideswiped a nice little couple in my haste.  I caught a glimpse of him passing the end of an aisle, but by the time I reached the spot, he had disappeared.  I just hated the thought of him not knowing where I was.  I finally located him happily perusing the liquor aisle, without a care in the world.  When I asked if he'd been looking for me, he said he knew he'd find me eventually.  He then proudly pointed to his cart...which contained a half gallon of 2% milk.

God Whispers

I was very affected recently by a wonderful lesson from our minister, Keith.  He shared a passage about Elijah from I Kings 19:
And the word of the Lord came to him: "What are you doing here, Elijah?"  He replied, "I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."
The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."  Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.  When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.
Keith pointed out that God doesn't always come to us in big sweeping ways...often it's a whisper.  I personally have witnessed God's presence in huge powerful ways in my own life.  I can't count how many times throughout our marriage Jason has pulled through a life-threatening situation against all odds.  I've spent numerous hours holding my breath in a waiting room unsure of the outcome of surgeries.  I can still clearly recall the look of one surgeon as he approached me...it was almost bewildered relief.  He simply had not found the extensive damage he'd been dreading/expecting.
This last episode was by far the most traumatic.  A very arrogant doctor took my sister and me into a hallway outside the ICU.  He didn't cushion the blow, but merely stated that there was nothing else they could do for Jason and that he would not survive.  After he made it through those scariest hours, it looked like he would continue to improve.  A couple nights later, he suffered his brain injury when the ventilator tube popped.  One afternoon after he'd been in a coma for a few days, I overheard a nurse asking her coworker, "How long are they going to let him lay there like that?"  It was clear that those caring for Jason feared he would not wake up, or would wake up dramatically changed.  A couple days later, with tears running down her face, his doctor took my father and me into a small room and asked me to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate).  I wish I could say that I was a strong tower in the face of these continual trials.  I admit that I began to lose hope that God would give me the outcome I so desperately sought.  God answered in very big ways...He was there in the wind, earthquakes and fire with me.
Now that life is calmer, God speaks to me in whispers.  Each new day, I am amazed by the quiet blessings He provides in countless ways.  I often feel unworthy and overwhelmed.  Whenever I'm having an especially difficult day, He whispers through a note from a friend or a phone call from my family.  He whispers whenever Jason remembers details from our first date.  He whispers when Jason and Eli giggle through hours of Tom and Jerry together.  He whispers when our daily needs are met in every way.  He whispers through my hope and joy that have replaced fear and despair.
“Be still, and know that I am God"  (Psalm 46:10)